Run, run, run, run, run

I ran an 18 miler on Sunday. I was anticipating that it would be a disaster since I've had a couple of problems of running out of energy on shorter long runs lately, including a horrid bonking at 12 1/2 miles on one run and barely squeaking out 14 on another. That's really just prep on my part...the previous days run was too hard for me at this point and just not enough fuel reserves. This time around I took it easy the day before (5 miles only) and deliberatly kept the pace down on the 18 (about 8:40/mile). I got back home after 17 miles and still had reserves left so I did an extra mile in the park...no problems.

I don't stop during my runs. Sometimes in the summer on very long runs the heat can get to me and I've got to stop and catch some breeze to cool off. Or a shoelace gets untied, or I've got to take a nature break. The running world can be viewed in two segments...those who take walk breaks...and those who don't. I'm in the latter category. I see walking during runs as removing some of the satisfaction and it's detrimental to training. I know the proponents and what they say "it prevents injury, it let's you go further than you otherwise would, it prevents bonking" yada yada. None of it is particularly true, all can be managed by pure running and training. Walk breaks introduce a bad habit, and one that can be very difficult to get out of. Beginners should do it because it helps get their bodies accustomed to running and getting the distances in they need to promote early development. If they ran only as far as they could they wouldn't get very far and wouldn't get out very often. Other than that, don't bother.

Once you get used to running without stopping, it's like everything else, you adapt to it, your body adapts to it, it becomes natural and normal. You'll be able to hold a pace for the duration instead of only 8-10 minutes at a time. Recovery will come around, the thought that it 'promotes recovery' is bogus. It only 'promotes recovery' because it 'reduces training', so there's less training to recover from. If someone did that 18 miler I did taking a break every 10 minutes, or even longer when it comes time to take a gu or fiddle with the fuel belt for a while, they're not getting out of it what I did. I did that run because I can, anything else just wouldn't measure up.

Just to let you know

I really have nothing to say lately.

I think I'm somewhere around.....here

I always have trouble figuring out where I reside in terms of being a runner. A sort of running identity crisis. I'm new to the game and never did this to any level before. I think the closest I got was running one lap around a cinder track in the 70's in Junior High health class as part of the 'participaction' awards tests...I recall it nearly killed me. So I have no background other than what I've accumulated over the past 5 years.

I've seen a lot of people who were quite involved in their high school years or in college, etc. or just people who have been at it for decades on end. I don't consider myself as any part of a 'boom', it's just something I'd always wanted to do and one morning headed out the door and started. I'm not in it for any trendiness it might carry.

I don't think of myself as slow, but I certainly don't consider myself as being anyways fast either. A couple of years ago after completing a pretty competitive level 5k one spring morning, one of the local fast guys (part of a very small but talented running club) who has seen me in the park came up and introduced himself, saying "I see you in the park a lot...so how'd you do today?". When I told him my time of 20:05, he just kinda nodded and walked away. Elite snobery? Sure was (methinks he thought maybe I would fit into their group and were approaching for recruitment, but my recreational numbers didn't quite jive with the 'requirements' I guess). But it certainly shows that I'm really not at any level that would make anyone with talent say "hey...that's pretty good!".

If I were midpack, I'd probably be pretty comfortable running with the masses and finishing in the thick of the mob as they squeeze their way over the finishing mats. If I were at the back, I could probably let loose and have fun and really not pay much attention to time, instead just enjoy the surroundings. If I were at the front I'd be fierce and competitive and work strategies throughout the race working to snag those all-important awards positions that everyone else considers waaaay out of scope.

Instead, I'm somewhere between the top and the mid. I'm not going to win many awards (I occasionally snag an a/g placement) and certainly no prize money or trophies to sit on a mantle. I'm not slow enough to just slog through it so I end up having to push to make sure I'm not passed near the end. My rewards usually come with seeing the mass of people yet to finish, finding my way to the food tables without lineups, maybe spotting some faces that are in my league and they'll be my adversaries for the day. It's finishing in that top 15% or so, knowing that I've held my ground and I'm not retrograding into 'jogger' territory.

I'm not anything to brag about. People do far better doing far less work than I do. It's a lot of effort for little or no tangible return, and it can be expensive to boot.

Can't quit now though.

Noodly Appendage Forever

I'm sure that Bobby Henderson probably figured he'd post his letter and that would be that. Far be it for the masses to let something as (in)significant as this get by unnoticed. Either fortunately or unfortunately, Mr. H will now be forced to live with his own creation for as long as TCP/IP connections exist (and beyond to the next incarnation of network communications...and so on and so on). No doubt the popularity spawned by the FSM has it's drawbacks but Mr. H does seem up to the challenge. It's surprising to see the context of hate mail that comes his way. Here's a message for the masses...LIGHTEN UP!

When my next big run comes up, I'll be sure to pay homage to Him and stuff myself with a second helping of spaghetti, meatballs and maybe a brew...or two. Maybe the next day's expulsion of e-coli will reveal it's own miracle.

The Coming Tea Party

I have no idea why I would want to run Boston. It's expensive and takes a lot of planning. If you're a mediocre distance runner like me, it takes a fair bit of training as well. Last winter I trained through some viciously cold conditions that decided to descend upon us after Christmas and didn't let up until the Easter Bunny froze his tail off in our backyard, and as a reward for that effort I get to do it all again, only this time at the 'show'. I've invested in two new pairs of shoes to get me through the winter, along with a pair of trials from last year that should keep me on my feet when the slick stuff dominates. It's hotels, and travel, and getting my documents up to date, paying the BAA just to run the thing (you'd think they'd be happy just to have me) and facing 3 hour runs with a scarf wrapped around my face to keep it from solidifying.

Last year Patriot's day in NE was better suited to packing a minimalist's version of bathing attire and hitting the beach more so than it was for running a marathon. The year before was not much better. I figure this time 'round it'll be pissing rain from point to point, the Wellesley girls will have headed back to their warm dry quarters once the first women go by, my family will stand, drenched cold and miserable, somewhere along the race route, shout "Hi dad...we're goin' back to the hotel" as I (hopefully) pass by, and I'll find myself heading up Boylston Street to a smattering of polite applause by others waiting only for their respective kin and more-or-less disappointed that I wasn't him/her.

I just can't figure out why I'm looking forward to it and counting the weeks.

goatees

I've decided that all men who sport goatees secretly worship the devil.

The rain, the park, and other things

like hurricane force winds.

Master t&f Cross Country race in Sunnybrook. Nothing can make you feel deflated like having lots of older folks kick your butt in Cross Country, but that's what makes this race so fun! A little mud every now and then is a good thing.



I wish I'd remembered my hat.

I see trees of green

and red roses too.

Not that I'm complaining. It's Halloween and it looks like the trees aren't giving in yet. We have a castor bean plant that's busily throwing out new branches even though it should be dead. I'll suspect this will be a bad year for ice wine.

My application to the Boston Marathon has been accepted. Hotel is booked. Fee's are paid. Now I just have to spend another entire winter training.

Did I get it? Did I get it?

Nope.

And all 28 runners who finished ahead of me DID get under 20. It was at least heartwarming for a couple of them to actually thank me for pushing them below the mark, by virtue of my consistent pacing and making them 'dig deep', as it were, down the stretch. Had I been paying the slightest of attention to either my watch or the giant finish line clock sitting front and center as I came down the chute, I probably could have done the same myself.

I consider myself the first loser.

Cherry Picking

In running terms, it means seeking out a race where you know nearly everyone is slower than you. The idea is to snag an award or at least a good age group position. Usually it's a nothing event with a couple of dozen people that nobody's even heard of, but it can be something bigger, usually a short race associated with a high-profile longer race. In this case, it's a 5k event that goes with a Marathon on Sunday. Last year's times show only 15 people (out of 600) beat 20 minutes, previous years fared a bit better. It comes down to who shows up. The 10k Zoo run is on Saturday, which draws most of the mainstream runners, and not many of them are going to run both races.

We'll see. I either show up at home empty handed or I break my 20 minute cherry.

Owls

I guess I have to resign myself to running in the dark for the next few weeks until we switch back to standard time. There were owls hooting in the trees as I crossed under the bridge this morning. From a distance, I thought they were mourning doves. When I got close enough it was easy to tell they weren't doves. Too bad they're too elusive to get a good look at. As a teen I tried chasing down a Screech Owl that decided to make our cottage area it's domain. He/she could be seen sitting on a treetop wailing away, but I couldn't get within a couple of hundred yards of it before it would take off and stay well out of range.

Last year I had the opportunity to get up nice and close, about 6 feet, from a red-tailed hawk that was prowling ET Seton park. I figure it had a few years on it and wasn't going to expend unnecessary energy unless I looked threatening. There's also a belted kingfisher that patrols the creek during the winter...not sure why though...it is the most polluted waterway in the GTA, the only living things in it are ducks, and even they avoid sticking their heads in the water.

flinging poo and blowing snots

Don't ever think running is an elegent sport. The necessity to hold a given pace for a period or time or wait around amongst a mass of people for the start of a race has a certain amount of influence on what one considers socially acceptible. Take Mississauga the year before last. Inaugural runs are subject to oversights and such, and it's not unusual for even established races to come up short on facilities. Just west of Square One lies sections of undeveloped land, some of it park, some of it just regen, which became a convenient and well used toilet for the 3000 odd runners taking part in the events of the day. The lineups at the potties precluded getting through before gun time so a parade of men and women alike took advantage of the thick untended brush to relieve themselves of their pre-race hydration strategies. It's funny how quick one abandons their modesty when a) your teeth are swimming b) those people over there don't seem overly worried about squating on a trillium plant.

I have had reason to make the wonderful park facilities in central Toronto my own personal lavatory on occasion, usually just for watering purposes only, but not always. Despite the prominence of washroom facilities, it doesn't help much that the park staff won't unlock the doors until well after the posted 'this washroom closed until 8:00 am nightly' expected opening time. Nonetheless, I try to stick to certain requirements...cover the offending material, stay beyond 200 meters of any water...etc. I make the grandest efforts to keep this event to maybe once a year, which this year was yesterday. I knew it was going to be an issue when I was a mile out when certain forces began their parade forthwith and I just decided to keep going forward instead of looping back. When you gotta go, you gotta go.

Snot rockets are another issue. There's only so many ways to clean those pipes when you're breathing like a locomotive. It's not a pretty sight and not something to execute in the presence of others. Other options, which I've exercised at times, are using one's shirt, using one's pocket, or just making sure you've got a supply of tissue on hand, although once they become bathed in sweat they're not particularly useful for anything other than plugging holes in drywall.

Yes, we look like we're doing something healthy, and yes some of us might be dressed to the nine's in our high-techy fabric shorts, jog bras and proliferation of equipment strapped to our chests and belts. It's just those human essentials we have difficulty with.

N

N became apparent to me as footsteps rumbling the timber stretchers on the bridges as I headed down the pathway out of Edwards Gardens returning back to Taylor Creek. I first heard them several seconds behind me on the first bridge at the entrance to the park, and as each subsequent bridge passed underneath me the gap got shorter until they were clearly at my heels. It's instinctive to pick up the pace, the first thought being if they are truely faster, then they'll pass me anyway. I wasn't quite used to runs of this length yet, but I was willing to hit a 7 minute pace for the 8 minutes it would take to reach the split at Sunnybrook.

Once the main park appeared, I split south and she split north, I spun my head with the question in my mind Who IS that?!?. Impressive, lengthy, smooth, and apparently quicker than me.

Her name appeared in results in races we were in together, although I didn't usually know it. I'd spot her easing her way through the park, I'd toss a nod or wave her way and she'd wave back...she might have known me from the chase, or maybe it was just me.

On warmish summer day, a local road race in walking distance prepped in the park below me. Sign up...warm up...wait at the start. And there she stands...a little tete a tete in shoes to happen. I guess I was in pretty reasonable shape at this time. As usual, out too hard, but it wasn't until the turn to come back I realized she was most of a minute behind me. Not the challenge I was thinking it would be.

Fast forward to September. A little local cross-country this time. This is the race she preps for, I could tell by the way she had been running the last few weeks. At the gun, I slip ahead a few steps and carry it down the hill. The course switches from open field to single track and damned if she didn't cut a corner and dart in front of me. Fine. The course is long, I can tell by my pace and my watch. I'm determined to stay right there, and as we reel in fading runners it seems as though she's trying to trap me in back. At one point I have to run off path and dance through the shrubs to get around someone just to keep contact. The hill is make or break, as she darts up smartly and I choose to conserve. Since it's back to field I won't get trapped. Once crested I can get back on pace. The hill is her nemesis, I slip ahead, her breathing is laboured and she struggles to get form. I can sprint, even when exhausted. Once over the line, I turn, she lightly slaps my hand and says "good race".

This year I didn't enter the race as I didn't realize it was on, but I did watch. I specifically timed N just to see if she was any faster. Sub-20 she went. My first thought "short course", and a check on finishing times tells me that's the case. A week later I jogged it just to see if it was short. 21:50 for me, so yes it's a short course. The thought comes to mind...can I beat her time if I run it on my own? Once around the park to get my breath back, then I tear off at race pace...without race officials at the corners I'll need to dodge dogs, leashes and people. People are jumping to the sides as I blast around corners and through tree stands. Take the hill and hammer it across the field, I'm not even looking at my watch to see where I'm at.

Once I hit where the finish line was, I hit stop, and go into a cooldown jog. Check the watch.

2 seconds faster.

I guess I'm not old yet.

Oh, wait...I might have something.

With CNN keeping the American viewing audience up-to-date on a viral outbreak at a Toronto nursing home, it almost makes me wish for another hurricane to start swirling in the Gulf just to draw Ted Turner's attention away (well, not really...a good tropical depression should suffice).

I suppose this should be of concern for any Yankees planning on visiting our fair city and popping into the local old-folks home to lick the banisters and toilet seats. They might be interested in knowing there are in the order of 40 or so outbreaks of various types in nursing homes throughout the GTA each year and this is not uncommon (not just here, but anywhere), given the tight clustering of the residents, staff and visitors combined with the relatively frail state of the primary occupants. Go to Google and type 'nursing home' and 'outbreak' (and filter out the word 'Toronto' if you want to avoid bombardment of the current hot news item) and you'll find a cornucoppia of news and information items about similar events right in everyone's own back yard.

Part of the argument is "what if I get sick and have to go to a hospital? I'm not going somewhere that will make me worse or kill me.". I'm not sure how often people think of this when visiting some equatorial tropical destination while drinking margs and getting in a base tan. I'm thinking one look in the waiting room at the local clinic might convince you to rely on the healing powers that many millenia of evolution has equipped us with instead.

According to Wunderground, the National Hurricane Center says the only threat is a non-tropical depression 550 miles northeast of the Leeward Islands that's not doing much except producing better rain. And the outbreak turned out to be Legionnaire's Disease so I suppose the glamour has gone from that one anyway. I guess it's back to homeland security updates and watching Larry King grow more wrinkles.

umm..

Nope...still nuthin'

nuthin